Through A Death Eater's Eyes
by Tanya Montague
Summary: Lucius Malfoy is not the only Death Eater with a potentially evil heir. Meet Medea Lestrange, daughter of Azkaban's most infamous prisoner. She lives to serve the Dark Lord, avenge her parents, and wreak havoc on Harry Potter. But will she go through ever


**_Disclaimer: _****_Harry Potter doesn't belong to me. Neither do any of the other characters, except for the ones that are a product of my idle mind. JK Rowling owns the Potter Universe and I am merely a bystander trying out the creations of my said idle mind. Thank you._**

**_Spoilers: _****_This fic contains spoilers from all 5 Harry Potter books. Readers beware!_**

*********

**_Prologue_**

          It was extremely cold that afternoon, I was already freezing my posterior off, and we had yet to see a glimpse of the channel we were supposed to enter. We've been on the ship for ages, with no one up but us Durmstrang lot to manage for ourselves. What a disgustingly exasperating day it has been so far. I gritted my teeth in frustration as I marched resolutely to the front of the ship, intending to make my voice heard above the din.

          "Oi, Krum! Are we getting there in this century or what?" I pushed some irritating people out of my way so I could stand next to Viktor Krum, the bonehead who was manning the ship for the time being. 

          "An hour, at least. Stupid headmaster passed out without giving directions," Krum gestured in annoyance at the prone figure of our Headmaster, Igor Karkaroff. The dolt seemed to have drunk a little too much wine during lunch, and left the ship in our hands.

          I swore a bit (yes, yes, so unladylike of me, but the man was really pissing me off), before I realized that it was Krum guiding the ship. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You have a bad head cold! You're supposed to be resting, not driving… or whatever it is you do with a ship!" 

          He slanted a scowl in my direction. "No one else knows how to sail."

          I rolled my eyes. "Well, then, grab a deck lounge, chill, then yell out instructions!" With that, I summoned a reasonably comfortable chair, complete with matching pillows, and pushed Krum in its direction. "Oi, Fidanov, take over!" I yelled at another one of the guys standing around. 

          "Why should I?" He replied in a bored voice.

          "Because I said so, dunderhead. Get to it, then."

          "Get someone else to do it. I'm busy."

          "Doing what, filing your nails? If you don't step up to the… thing… you'll be hearing some very interesting stuff at breakfast tomorrow, about what you and your twin brother really do in your room at night." I accompanied the proclamation with a sneer, which I perfected by the age of five. I heard Alexandar swear succinctly under his breath before he took the wheel (what the hell did you call those bloody things anyway? I wish we just enchanted a giant broom to fly us all the way to Hogwarts). Alex was still directing evil glares toward me as I sashayed away, being cautious to watch my back for any retaliations from Alex or Alexei, his twin. After all, we Durmstrang people are a vicious lot. I'd have to keep a lookout for a while. After all, I just did the unspeakable. Durmstrang guys are very sensitive about their masculinity. I wonder why, since I've never heard of male-male relationships during my whole seven year stay here. Plus, Alex and Alexei combined have probably slept with the entire female population in school, Fourth Years and above only, of course. Going after kids would be way too perverted, even for them. 

          Hmmm… let me get back to the beginning, then. I failed to mention quite a few things at the start. First of all, I'm Medea Lestrange. I'm from Durmstrang Institute of Magic… hey, no jokes about D.I.M. I wasn't the numbskull who brilliantly named our school. Hah. None of the students even like mentioning that we're from "D.I.M." We just go by Durmstrang. One of these days, I swear I'll hand out a petition to eradicate the D.I.M. part. Those idiots would rue the day they came up with that!

          Anyway… we elite Durmstrang students are on our way to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the Triwizard Tournament, which is a very big deal, because it hasn't been held in a gazillion years. Okay, more like a hundred or so years, but still! It's the Triwizard Tournament! I've seen pictures in books, and the scenes look awesome! Only three schools are participating: Whiny Beaubaxtons, Wimpy Hogwarts, and The Great Durmstrang! And we'll be beating everyone's asses, ha! Come on, look who we're up against: Beaubaxtons? It's an all-sissy school, and they'd be too worried about breaking a nail than competing, even the guys. And Hogwarts is just about the wimpiest magic school there is. I mean, they have Defense against the Dark Arts classes, yeah, but they aren't taught Offensive Dark Arts. Come on, hasn't anyone ever told them that the best defense is offense? Jeez. I feel so sorry for my cousin. I can't think of a worse fate than studying in Hogwarts, putting up with all those morons. Oh yeah, my cousin tells me quite a lot in his letters. I'm still doing my best to help him convince his mom to send him here to Durmstrang. He would be better off here. After all, he is quite intelligent and cunning. He'd fit right in.  

          Speaking of my cousin… I can't wait to see him. He and I have grown up together, since my parents are currently residents of Azkaban prison. That's Wizard Prison. My parents have been there since I was 3, and I swear I'd wreak havoc on those responsible for robbing me of my parents. That's one reason why I've trained so hard to master my magical capabilities. I couldn't describe my elation at being one of the Durmstrang students selected to compete in the Tournament. But I've seen it coming. After all, I'm a pureblood, and everyone knows purebloods (especially those with ancestry as illustrious as mine) are very powerful wizards indeed. None of my relatives are Mudbloods (at least, none that count), and none had intermarried with those disgusting Muggles (again, none that count), so I'm proud to say that my bloodline is as untainted and as powerful as it could be. With the exception of not growing up with my parents (we correspond through the owl mail, of course), I'd say I'm pretty happy with my life.

          But I can't wait to see this Neville Longbottom person. He's the bloody bastard who's responsible for my parents' imprisonment. Or at least, his parents are. Hah. He should be very thankful that I don't go to Hogwarts. Otherwise, he'd have to beg his granny for new limbs every now and then. How ridiculous! A fourteen-year old male running to his granny! But then again, he wouldn't be able to run to his parents now, would he? I just hope my dear cousin has kept up his end of the bargain, and terrorized Longbottom regularly, as a favor for me. 

          I sighed as I leaned against the mast. What I really wanted to do was cackle maniacally, for the time for revenge is nearer, but that wouldn't look to good. A dignified lady, such as myself, should not be cackling in public. Besides, people would think I'm weird, cackling to myself. Indeed. 

          I looked around me, taking in the sights. The Durmstrang ship was encased in a huge… bubble (I simply cannot find a different word for it)… to shield us all, as we're currently traveling underwater. Both ship and bubble are huge, even though there are only twenty of us on board. Well… twenty-one, including Karkaroff. And maybe the house elves in the kitchens, too. They of course had to come with us to keep us comfy and well-fed. Aside from the promise of a magnificent entrance at Hogwarts, I do not see any other reason why we traveled by ship. After all, all of us could already Apparate, since our laws permit learner's permits for Apparation at the age of sixteen, and when we hit seventeen, we take our Apparation exams. But no, the bloody headmaster decided we should go by ship. And once we board the ship, what does he do?

          I don't know what he did. He just locked himself in his quarters, rubbing his left forearm.

          I wonder if he's a bit… dim in the head.

          Oh well. 

********

          Finally!

          I tightened my fur coat around me as we stepped down from our ship and walked the short distance to the entrance of Hogwarts. Karkaroff finally woke up a two hours ago, drank a potion that seemed to make him sober (very sober, indeed) and gave Alexei directions. That git. If he'd never fallen asleep anyway, we wouldn't have been blundering around more than we should have. There he was, pushing Krum a bit ahead of the group, so Krum could get warm a few seconds earlier than the rest of us. Don't get me wrong. Krum is one of my friends, the few I choose to have, but it's sickening to see Karkaroff fawning over him as if Krum was born yesterday. 

          As expected, everyone at Hogwarts reacted rapturously at having Krum step on their marble floor. Some redheaded kid looked like he was about to have a swooning fit the moment Krum walked past him. Rolling my eyes at their predictability, I decided to just look for my cousin, whom I haven't seen since summer.

          "You know, one day your eyes may just pop out of their sockets if you continue rolling them like that," someone to my left sneered. 

          "You know, if you don't get a tan soon, people might start mistaking you for a bit of parchment," I sneered back as the boy moved closer.

          "Obnoxious as ever, I see," my cousin commented, throwing his arm around my shoulder.

          "And you still have the incredible talent of stating the obvious," I replied as I messed up his perfectly shellacked hair.

          "Jeez, Medea, not the hair!" dear cousin Draco Malfoy complained, pushing my away to fix his platinum locks. "No one messes with the 'do!"

          "You've forgotten something, Drake, honey," I shook my head in mock exasperation. "I'm Medea the Great. I've seen you in diapers, so that gives me the privilege to do what I want."

          He glared at me then threw his hands up in the air in resignation. "You know, we could stand here and banter all night, but I'm getting hungry."

          "Me, too," I replied, grimacing as I remembered the lunch hours and hours ago. "God, you should hear what happened on the ship today…"

******

          I made my way to the seat next to between Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode. Draco took the seat in front of Pansy and motioned to the other Durmstrang students to have a seat at the table. Draco winked at me as he started chatting up with Krum. Foolish boy. I could have told him that unless your one of Krum's close friends, he'd only answer in a few short sentences. That guy could be as frugal with his words as a monkey would be with his banana.

          Rolling my eyes yet again, I just started talking to Pansy, whom I haven't seen in months, either. She's one of the family friends, so we get to hang out sometimes during the summer holidays, when the Parkinsons, Malfoys, Lestranges, Bulstrodes, Crabbes and Goyles visit each others' estates. The Zabinis do, too, as they're part of the circle, but as I have no inclination to sit beside that Blaise Zabini right now, he doesn't count.

          Millie was just pointing out Longbottom to me when the door to the Hogwarts headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, made a few batty announcements. That was that, and we all had a good meal, and then we had to get back to the ship. I'm sure this old castle has a couple of hundred of unused rooms, but no, Headmaster Karkaroff insisted that we should go back to the sanctity of our ship. I guess he doesn't want to take any chances of Hogwarts students sabotaging our chances at being selected for the tournament.

          We were on our way out when everyone in front of me just stopped in mid-stride. I craned my neck to try to find out what the heck was going on when Alex elbowed me and said, "That kid is Harry Potter," all the while pointing blatantly at some guy's forehead.

          So. 

          This is the great Harry Potter. 

          I believe my disdain showed completely on my face as I took in the sight of a scruffy kid with messy black hair and green eyes. The famous lightning bolt scar stood out visibly on his forehead. I wonder if he purposely applies mousse or styling gel to his hair to make them strategically part where the scar is, as a reminder to everyone that he defeated the Dark Lord.

          Merlin, I do sincerely hope he gets struck by lightning.

          He's also part of the reason why I have no parents with me right now. He's also at fault why I don't live in my own house until I go home for the winter holidays, since I just officially turned of-age this year. It's his damned fault. I glared at him, even though he was still focused on what Karkaroff was saying.

          Potter's day will come.

          I'll have his head on a platter and deliver it to the Dark Lord myself.

********

          The next night was Halloween, and the Triwizard Cup contenders would be announced at the feast. I took my seat at the Slytherin table, as far as physically possible from Blaise Zabini as the laws of Physics would allow. I still haven't forgiven him for turning my hair bright orange last summer. How embarrassing it was, to look like those impoverished Weasleys.

          I sat between Draco and Viktor, who is my sort of best friend. By sort of, I really mean sort of. I have few friends in Durmstrang, only the few I choose to have. Viktor, on the other hand, I didn't choose, but somehow he was just… there. It's more like a mutual understanding that we both don't want nor need anything from each other save companionship and conversation. I talk to him, he talks to me, but we don't really go out of our ways to make time for each other. It is rather weird, but then again, who says that friendship has to be all normal and goody-goody? Tonight, however, we said little during the course of the meal, since we were a bit anxious about who would be chosen as Durmstrang champions. Karkaroff led us all to the Goblet of Fire this morning to drop our names in and we'd be hearing the results in a few minutes.

          In what seemed to take forever, Dumbledore finally stood up and caught the first piece of parchment spewed out by the Goblet. 

          "The Champion for Durmstrang," he read and we all fell silent as we waited for his announcement, "will be Viktor Krum."

          I clapped my hands proudly for Viktor, quelling down my own feelings of disappointment. I really wanted to compete, but I guess if it wasn't me, I'm glad it was Viktor, instead of some dolt like Poliakoff. Man, I am so glad it wasn't Poliakoff. He is such a damn smart aleck.

          Viktor stood up and walked toward wherever it was the chosen champions were supposed to go. He doesn't look to glad about it, though. All he really wants to do is play Quidditch, but as he's one of the top students in the school, he is obligated to at least compete. 

          After Viktor's name was called, some girl from Beaubaxton stood up proudly as her name was read. Some of the Beaubaxtons students burst into sobs. Pathetic. Heck, I know that the other students from Durmstrang are definitely not happy with Viktor being chosen, but we don't show our animosity on the outside. We've been trained since childhood to never antagonize people in the higher-ups. Who knows, one day we'll have to kiss their asses, and it would be less embarrassing for us if they didn't know that we were against them from the start.

          The champion for Hogwarts was announced and just about everyone started cheering for some pretty-boy Hufflepuff, which, according to Draco, is just about the wimpiest house ever to be created. I wonder why, then, did that Diggory get selected as Hogwarts champion?

          The Slytherins around me started sneering and booing as Diggory walked off towards where Viktor and Ms. Beaubaxton were probably waiting. However, as the furor died down, everyone looked on in astonishment as the Goblet spewed out a fourth piece of parchment.

          Dumbledore looked like he couldn't believe his eyes as he read the name written on it.

          "Harry Potter."

          WHAT THE??? I felt my ire raging through my veins… this could not be happening!

          "What the hell? TWO Hogwarts champions???" I roared in an enraged voice. "Why the hell does Hogwarts get two champions but Durmstrang and Beaubaxton don't???" 

          Heck, I don't care about Beaubaxton, but if there are two Hogwarts champions, I, at least, should have another shot at this! I'm second only to Viktor in all our classes in school, but if I won't be chosen, at least another Durmstrang student should be!

          "What the heck is the meaning of this?" Alex was glaring at the Hogwarts Staff table. 

          "I thought only one student from each school would be chosen?" Alexei gritted out, also emanating anger. I looked at everyone from Durmstrang, and with an unspoken agreement, we all just stood up and walked out, inter-school camaraderie be damned. 

          "Dea!" 

          I narrowed my eyes when I heard my cousin call me back. "Not now, Draco. I am not in the mood."

          And with that, I walked out of the Great Hall along with my other school mates.

********

          I balanced myself on the rail of the Durmstrang ship as I tried to sort out my feelings about what just happened in the Great Hall. I'm glad that Viktor did get chosen. Really. I am. I'm even glad that Pretty Boy and Veela Girl got chosen. That means Viktor won't have to worry much about competition from those two. 

          It's just the fact that Scar Boy was chosen that really gets on my nerve.

          He has just about everything life can offer him. Gold in Gringotts. A damn good broomstick (which Draco has been complaining about incessantly). Reasonable grades (except for his abysmal Potions performances, as Draco has constantly been regaling me with). And as far as I know, he's Dumbledore's Golden Boy, the Apple of His Eye… 

          To hell with them all. 

          It's just one more thing on my list of Things Potter Will Pay For. Heading the list is putting my parents in Azkaban. The fool doesn't know it, but he had a hand in it. If he hadn't survived the curse and caused the Dark Lord to vanish, my parents would never have had to go looking for the Dark Lord. Still, they paid the price for their loyalty. Someday soon, Potter will pay the price for being alive. 

          "Dea?"

          I turned and saw Viktor stepping out from below the ship.          

          "Vik."

          "I noticed you weren't at the Slytherin table after we got briefed," he leaned against the rail and stared out into the darkness. 

          "We walked out. The entire Durmstrang lot did."

          "I noticed."

          "It wasn't about you, Vik. I am truly happy for you. It's just that Potter kid that's getting on my nerves tonight." 

          "He always gets on your nerve."

          "Well, he would too, if he sent your parents to Azkaban!" I retorted. Why can he not understand this? He, of all people, should! After all those times (which I didn't ask for!) spent talking, he should at least try to understand how I feel about all this!

          "I know how you feel, Dea."

          "Do you, Viktor? I'm starting to wonder."

          He looked at me as if I just suggested that he should go and make friends with the alleged Giant Squid. "What is that supposed to mean? I've spent night and day listening to you talk about how you feel, and still you don't think I understand?"

          "Well you don't act like you do, sometimes! I AM glad that you were chosen champion! I AM HAPPY that you would in all probabilities win the tournament! It's just that this DAMN HARRY POTTER had to get in the way! He always does! I swear, if the Dark Lord doesn't do him in, I BLOODY WILL!"

          And with that, I stomped back down to my sleeping quarters. Thankfully, as Head Girl, I have my own. Otherwise, I am not sure what I would have done to my roommate, given the state I was in.

********

          I stood over my steaming cauldron as I waited for the concoction to turn a deep shade of blue, as it is supposed to do while I took great care not to inhale the fumes. We are currently whipping up a batch of Delirium Draught and it would not look very good if I get high on its steam. Instead, I took a mental inventory of the Potions classroom as I struggled to get rid of my bad mood. There's Poliakoff in the corner, flirting with an imaginary creature. I can tell he was flirting because he was running his fingers through his wavy brown hair as he continuously winked at the space beside him. Dolt. He looks like a scarecrow having a seizure. A very scary scarecrow, I might add.

          Some of the Slytherin seventh years were huddled in the corner, whispering quietly. Or at least, they think so. Every goddamned person in the dungeon knows that they're talking about asking Viktor for his bloody autograph. Viktor is studiously ignoring me and everyone else in the room, including those bloody idiots. Alex and Alexei are leering at some of the Slytherin girls. Hn. So, after they've done it with most of the Durmstrang girls, they're planning on moving into Hogwarts territory? I wonder if they worked hard to be this horny or if they were born that way. 

          I sighed as I stirred my potion six times counterclockwise the moment it turned blue. I am passably good at Potions. I probably would be better at it, had I the patience for it, but that is one virtue I sorely lack. Besides, Potions is Draco's forte. I much prefer Charms. Or Curses. My mother was also good at Curses. Or so I have been told by my Aunt Narcissa. I've also been told that I look very much like mother. I take that as a compliment. After all, I think my mother looks gorgeous.

          And so is my father, I should say. Both he and my mother have fair skin, though my father is a bit darker. Both my parents have raven hair, although my father's hair is a little wavy and my mother's is straight. My father has gray eyes, while my mother has eyes as dark as coal. Both have aristocratic features, and they just radiate pureblooded nobility. Both are tall and both stand proud. As far as I know, they are perfect for each other.

          And as perfect as they are for each other, I am proud to say that their genes were also a perfect match. Their union hasn't produced a troll, thank Slytherin, otherwise, I would have killed myself the moment I could look into a mirror. I inherited their dark hair. I have my mother's straight black hair, and if I let it grow out, I would no doubt look like a younger version of Bellatrix Black Lestrange. I don't though. Let it grow out, I mean. I have short, layered hair, only up to my chin, which is more practical, in my opinion. After all, I have no patience to linger in front of a mirror that talks back, instructing me on the most flattering hairdo appropriate for whatever functions I must attend. So I just let it frame my face, or sometimes I wear a headband. Very simple, very innocent. Oh the irony.

          I also inherited my mother's complexion. I think being light-skinned runs in the Black family, although I am not quite as pale as Draco. He gets the worst of it, I think, since both Aunt Narcissa and Uncle Lucius are a bit on the pale side. But they still look pretty damn good. After all, most purebloods look pretty damn good. Even my traitor uncle, Sirius Black. Or ex-uncle, in this case. The last time I heard, he was burned off the family tree.

          I am quite tall for a girl. I'm taller than Draco right now. But then again, everyone is taller than Draco. I sure wish he gets a growth spurt, quick, because at the rate he's growing, I'd have to lend him my heels in the next family gathering, otherwise, he'll be dwarfed by everyone. 

          Draco may be a bit short for his age, but I sure love his eyes. They're silvery-gray, like my father's. And Uncle Lucius'. I have my mother's obsidian eyes. I love my eyes, too. I think they look mysterious. It's just that Draco's eyes look more cunning. But the mysterious look suits me. Especially for my plans in the future.

          "Very good, Miss Lestrange," a voice came from over my right shoulder and I fought the urge to jump into my cauldron. It was only Professor Severus Snape, one of the few teachers here in Hogwarts that I like. Oh, wait, make that the only teacher in Hogwarts that I like. He's exactly the kind of headmaster that should be at Durmstrang. Firm, cynical, cunning and harsh. Just perfect for Durmstrang. A bit creepy, though, until you get to know him. Which I do, since he comes to the mansion whenever Uncle Lucius and Aunt Narcissa throw parties.

          And no, I do not have a crush on him. That would be so bloody horrible. That's just like jumping into my cauldron with a naked Neville Longbottom. Can you say disgusting?

          "Thank you, sir," I replied, expressionless. I always look expressionless when I'm around teachers. Or so, I hope. I have been practicing the expressionless look in the mirror for years, and if I still don't have it down, I am in deep dragon crap. I would need the expressionless look in the future.

          "I see the skill in Potions runs in your family, then." Snape commented, inspecting my cauldron. "Lucius has not been exaggerating." 

          I merely nodded as I ladled a sample into a vial and handed it to the Potions Master. "Uncle Lucius has an exquisite Potions laboratory in the mansion. He lets me, and Draco, practice there during summers."

          "Ah yes. The Malfoy lab. It certainly has been very useful…" Snape concurred, and walked off to inspect other cauldrons. He berated the flirts, snapped at the rowdy, and expelled his breath in frustration when he accidentally stepped on the passed out Poliakoff.

************

          "Dea," Draco greeted as I sat beside him at the Slytherin table for lunch. I nodded as I acknowledged him, and said nothing.         

          "You want to play a little Quidditch after lunch? The Slytherin team is still practicing, even though there won't be any matches this year. We were wondering if the Durmstrang players want to play a match," Draco said as he heaped food on his plate.

          "I'll ask them about it. Are you sure you want us to play?" I smirked. "We have Viktor on our team, after all."

          "Oh, crap, I completely forgot about that. If you guys play, that would mean I'd be going up against him."

          "Scared, cousin?" 

          "Of course not," Draco retorted. "It's just that he has a Firebolt, while I still have the Nimbus 2001!"

          "Why don't you just ask your father to buy you a Firebolt? For crying out loud, he could afford to buy you five Firebolts if he wanted!"

          "That's just it," he scowled. "He doesn't want to. Not unless I beat Potty first. He doesn't freaking understand that I'm going against a freaking Firebolt! I won't beat a Firebolt on a Nimbus 2001!" 

          I rolled my eyes at this. I've heard this "poor, downtrodden me" drama for about a million times since summer. "Then save some of your allowance and buy a Firebolt yourself."

          "Me? Save my allowance? You're kidding, right, Dea?"

          "Shut up, you prat. One month's allowance could already get you a Firebolt and a maintenance kit."

          "Easy for you to say. You don't have to save."

          "I don't want the Firebolt, Draco. You do."

          "Whatever. So are you guys playing or not?" 

          "I'll find out." I turned and called out as the Fidanov twins sat down, "Oi! You guys want to play Quidditch after lunch?" 

          Both Fidanovs nodded their assent and started eating. They still look a bit bummed out about being reprimanded for leering at the Slytherin girls. I hope they cheer up after they eat, otherwise, they might not play their best. Alex is our Keeper, and Alexei is a Chaser. Viktor, of course, is the Seeker. I'm a Beater. We're the only ones from our House Team here at Hogwarts right now. But I guess we can rope in Jenna Hranj and Darinka Andranoche to play Chasers. And maybe Stefan Stojakovich would play the second Beater. Jenna and Stefan both play for their House, while Darinka is in a different House. Although, unlike Hogwarts, we don't have wimpy Houses. Ours are simply divided into the Earth, Water, Wind, and Fire. Yeah, yeah, cheesy names, but hey, we still kick ass.

*************

          Draco and I flopped down in the middle of the Quidditch pitch after the our game. As predicted, we Durmstrang elites kicked ass, even though not all of the players on our team got along very well. After all, we were used to playing against each other in school. The chasers were playing their own games, trying to outdo each other. Both Stefan and I were on somewhat neutral grounds, although we did try to make a show of who can hit Bludgers more accurately. Viktor was aloof, as usual. And our dear Keeper Alex was somewhat bored. During the first part of the match, anyway. Still, we kicked Slytherin booty. And at least we brought our own brooms. Otherwise, we would have had to use the Hogwarts school brooms, which, as Draco tells me, were already old since the founding of the school. 

          As I said, we won, 260-10. The Slytherins wouldn't even have gotten the 10 points if one of their chasers hadn't blown a kiss at Fidanov. Seeing as the chaser was big, bulky and hairy, Alex almost fell off his broom in surprise and disgust. 

          "You guys play dirty," I commented as I resisted throwing my bat at the big, bulky, hairy chaser's retreating back. I commented, not complained. I don't complain. 

          "Yeah, but so what? You guys know every trick in the book! We couldn't even get past your defenses," Draco complained. He complains. I don't. 

          "Draco, my dear, you guys still have a lot to learn. That Chaser trick was a stroke of brilliance, though."

          He laughed as he remembered Big Bulky Hairy Chaser's antics during the game. "He seems to think that your Keeper was leering at his girlfriend during your Potions class. He said it was payback time. Can you believe the expression on your Keeper's face? He looked like he saw his grandmother making out with his twin!"

          "Serves him right. Hopefully that trick curdled his hormones. Otherwise, you guys better hold on to your girlfriends. He and his twin are the worst hornballs ever to walk on earth."

          "Why the animosity against him, Dea? Spurned?" Draco teased. I raised my eyebrow at him as I stood up.

          "Him? Spurn me? Draco, if he did that to me, he wouldn't be able to sit properly. Ever. Trust me." I gave him a hand, and we both brushed the grass off our Quidditch robes.

          "You know what, Dea? You're scary."

          "Thank You."

***********

**_End of Prologue…_**


End file.
